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Dead Frontier/Issue 139
This is Issue #139 Dead Frontier, titled Vagabond. ''This is the premiere of '''Volume 24'. Issue 139 - Vagabond Elliott runs through the alleyway with the two strangers, an odd pairing. An English guy with a messed up eye and a striking woman clutching onto that bag like her life depends on it. Lucy takes another look at Elliott and notices the stitching on his uniform. "You're from LA?" she asks. "Yeah," he says. "We got brought over to help with this fucking mess. There's a couple trucks waiting by the gates for us." "You're bringing us there?" Hunter exclaims. "Oh, shit--that's great but we kind of have an entire group we got separated from." "Do you know where they are?" "Maybe about a block away. The streets got really hectic and we just--we lost them." "I don't know if we can go back," Elliott says. He tries to sound gentle, but mixes some authority into his tone as well. "Yes, we're fucking going back! I'll go alone if I have to!" "Look, I know--" Lucy slows to a stop while they're still in the relatively calm alleyway. She turns toward Elliott and looks at the name on his uniform. "Black--" "Elliott," he says. "We're going," she says. A bruise has begun forming on her cheek, and she uses her thumb to wipe the last bits of blood from her chin. "You can come with, or you can leave. Either way, we're not leaving until we find every single one them." "Yeah, and then you get me, you, and your friend killed for that stupid fucking--!" He gestures to the bag, then throws his hands up in the air in an exasperated gesture. He places his hands on top of his head and sighs. He turns to Lucy again, his stare serious, angry. "I'll help you out. But listen to me--" He looks between the both of them and finally points a finger at Lucy. "--you, especially. Stay behind me, and don't pull anymore stupid shit. Alright?" Lucy nods, followed by Hunter doing the same. "Here," Elliott says. He walks over to Hunter and shoves the pistol in his hand. The strap over Elliott's shoulder secures a rifle; he grabs the gun in both hands. "Let's go." ---- Harlow curses under her breath--she can’t believe Elliott’s stupidity. She told him too many times, before they came here and right outside the gates, to stay by her side. But now he’s gone. She even circled back around to see if she could find him, called his name wildly, but no luck. She eventually decides she’s going to have to move on without him. Apparently, the sight of her rifle gives her some kind of authority. Although she’s alone, a quick sweep of her barrel has rioters speeding out of her way. If things went awry, she was told to head deep into downtown; the situation was clearly worse there, and that’s where most of the units were sent. She could regroup with another unit, if she's lucky. But maybe that was a mistake. The high-rises around her indicate downtown, but she doesn’t see much of anyone she knows. Rioters, yes, and innocents hoping to get to safety, but only the occasional Humvee. There’s a high-pitched whistle that causes Harlow to look up. Something flies through the sky, hits the top of its arc, and begins its descent. It hits the ground, shrouding the area in thick smoke. Harlow, and everyone around her, delve into uncontainable coughing fits. They attempt to squint their eyes and cover their mouths with whatever cloth they can find, but it doesn’t matter--the smoke is too strong, and the hysteria only increases tenfold. Harlow tries to make her way through. She stops when, unusually, the crowd begins to part. A group of men in uniforms identical to hers are stomping through in a rectangular formation, and in the middle of the pack, a familiar woman scurries along with them. Harlow recognizes the woman instantly as Dr. Heidi Kastner. It’s not the time for her anger to build, but it does, and Harlow files in with the group flawlessly. “You saved her?!” Harlow shouts to the man next to her. His uniform reads “Oddo.” He can’t hear her. “Oddo!” “It’s Oh-do!” She doesn’t make the effort to correct herself. “There are innocent fucking people who need to be--” “It was an order! Johnson told us to her to get her out, no matter what!” Harlow is astonished. This entire ordeal was caused by her and her heartlessness, her boneheaded decisions. Keeping up her sprint, Harlow looks toward Heidi, hiding behind a wall of protection. It makes Harlow’s stomach churn, and one final look at the chaos around her makes her lift her gun. Harlow points her rifle at Heidi’s leg and shoots. Heidi tumbles to the ground with a scream, and her convoy of soldiers come breaking to a stop. They don’t know who fired the shot, and Harlow appears oblivious. But she locks eyes with Heidi, who stares right back up at her, her hand pressed against her bleeding calf. The crowds are getting reckless, and the majority of the soldiers have fled. They completely abandon Heidi, the woman it was their goal to save in the first place--the cause of it all. Good, Harlow thinks, and she flees, too. Harlow takes one more moment to look back. Oddo is the only one who bothered to stay and assist Heidi. He reaches down, tries to pull her to her feet. But the crowds are too big, too strong, too violent, and they’re both lost under the stomping of boots. ---- Adam can't believe how quickly they were separated. He’s being shoved around wildly in the crowd, and he does a quick visual sweep of the area. Daniel and Tora are right next to him--at the sight of Tora, his worry only escalates. Daniel seems to have her safety in mind, though, so Adam stays on the look out instead of fussing about her. Lienne, Dean, and Ivy are their own trio somewhere behind him. They’re not too far away for him to worry. Jake is up ahead, searching around frantically for familiar faces. When he locks eyes with Adam, some of his panic is eradicated. Hunter and Lucy are nowhere in sight. The constant sounds of shouting and gunshots are finally interrupted by a roaring engine. The crowd comes to a halt suddenly, and Adam stops with them. There are orders to move out of the way, but Adam can’t see any immediate dangers. His questions are answered by an obnoxious honking--the wall of people before him begins to spread, making room for a truck painted in black-and-grey camouflage. Adam jumps out of the way as the truck barrels through. It barely misses him, and he watches with strained breaths as it stops in the middle of the road. The rioters are ready to converge on it; however, an emergence of several soldiers stops them. Their uniforms are unfamiliar but professional. The gold stitching on one of their tops reveals they’ve come from LA--seeing this has Adam in a state of complete shock, but he’s pulled out his daze when Daniel, his grip tight on Tora’s forearm, pulls her forward and toward one of the soldiers. With his free, bandaged hand, Daniel grabs onto the soldier’s uniform. “Please--you’ve gotta help her,” Daniel says. The soldier just stares at him, more startled and confused than anything. He looks at Tora and notes how she’s struggling just to just stay upright. “She’s sick. I dunno how far she can make it...and we--we’re not with these crazy fucks! We’re trying to leave--” “Sir,” the soldier says, his tone managing to be urgent, but also assuring and authoritative. Behind him, two soldiers fling open the doors to the truck. This soldier ushers Daniel along, explaining as they go. “Innocent, sick--all supposed to come with us. Come on.” "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do you--" "You wanna get out of here or not?" The soldier lifts Tora into the truck first, then assists Daniel. Injured and others file in at an astonishing rate. In his rush to get Tora somewhere safe, he'd completely disregarded everyone else. Before he can even yell for them to stop, the doors are closed. “Wait--wait!” Daniel shouts. No one outside seems to hear his pleas, because the truck drives off. He curses under his breath. He looks to Tora, says her name, but she doesn’t respond. He realizes she probably can’t hear him due to the hushed speaking of everyone else having accumulated into a loud, droning noise. He repeats himself, a little louder, and she turns to him. “Just stay awake, okay?” he says. She nods, but it doesn’t take long for his request to be completely disregarded. ---- Jake snaps his head around, stopping where he is. People rush past his frozen form as he watches Daniel and Tora being escorted into a truck that drives away soon after. He knows he won’t be able to catch it, but he pushes forward anyway. He doesn’t even see Dean cross his path, and their collision nearly knocks both of them to the ground. “D-did you see that?!” Jake asks. He strains his voice to reach a volume where Dean can hear him. “No--w-what happened?” Dean replies. “Some--some soldier dudes j-just took Dan and Tora. Th-they didn't look like they were from here--" One of these unusual soldiers sprints past them, his rifle held securely in his hands. Jake points him out to Dean, and before he's out of sight, they're able to make out the stitching of his uniform indicating his affiliation with Los Angeles. Jake and Dean lock eyes with each other. They're able to come to the same conclusion without a word. These people are here to help. As they observe some more, that fact becomes increasingly apparent. Women and children appear to be the priority, but any nonviolent citizen caught in the chaos manages to be assisted into one of the trucks. Those with visible bites are completely ignored. “Look--over there,” Dean says, patting Jake on the shoulder excitedly. He points to another truck rolling to a stop a decent ways ahead. Jake turns back, spots Adam, Lienne, and Ivy, and cups his hands over his mouth. “Hey!” Jake calls. All three heads turn at the familiar voice. “The trucks! Get to one of the trucks!” Lienne nods her head in response. She makes sure Ivy is by her side and barks an order to Adam to stay with her. Jake knows he can't waste any more time so, reluctantly, he pulls Dean along. Dean is a little more hesitant to just knock people out of the way, but Jake seems to have no problem with it. He bashes some guy in the nose that wouldn't get out of the way, and a poor woman with a gushing lip is knocked to the ground, another victim of Jake's recklessness. When they get closer, the truck still hasn't filled up, as a group of soldiers from LA are trying to subdue an unusually unruly group of protestors--these rioters can't seem to tell the difference between friend and foe, and they attack blindly. The truck's back doors are wide open, but Jake can already see how packed it is. He's not sure if he'll be able to find another so easily. This could be his last chance, as far as he's concerned. He speeds up, Dean following his lead. About three people are fighting for a spot in the truck, crawling over each other to climb into the back. A punch is thrown, and one of the men tumbles to the ground. Jake attempts to squeeze himself through the altercation. He shoves a bulky guy out of his way and lifts one foot into the back of the truck. He's nearly in, but he feels someone grab onto the back of his jacket. "Little shit!" the assailant mutters, and Jake is pulled to the ground. He lands on his back, wincing as his skull smacks against the asphalt. His vision goes slightly blurry, but through his daze he sees Dean actually throw a punch at the man that pulled him down. Immediately, Dean shouts in pain, clutching his fist close to his body. The man, however, has been knocked unconscious from the blow. Dean's not sure where that kind of power came from--but he's not complaining. He extends his good hand and lifts Jake to his feet. Dean ushers Jake into the truck before lifting himself up. They find a spot in the cramped space, and in less than a minute the doors are slammed shut. Just in time. Jake glances at Dean, who seethes in pain as he rubs his knuckles. Jake tends to his injury as well, rubbing the back of his head. There's a small bump, a little bit of blood, but nothing that can't be treated. "You o-okay?" Jake asks. He tries to slow down his breaths. "Yeah--fuck--" Dean says. "I just--I never punched anyone before. Didnt know it hurts this fucking bad." "You probably got him in the teeth," Jake says. "Th-thanks, though." Dean manages to grin. "Yeah, no problem." ---- Hunter, Lucy, and Elliott have ditched their alleyway shortcuts and ventured out into the streets again. Like Elliott advised, they stay behind him. He's a lot more intimidating, with his rifle and uniform, and just being in his presence gives them a sense of security, despite everything else going on. They both can't help but notice how much things have calmed down since the soldiers' arrival, even if the city is still hectic--this isn't something that can be quelled in a day. Elliott glances back at them, making sure they're there, before turning again and continuing on through the crowds. They pass a few of those trucks, but they're already filled and just trying to find a way to move past the rioters without mowing them all over. "Over here--come on!" Elliott urges. His speed is only a few notches below a full sprint. Lucy and Hunter, already exhausted struggle to keep up. With the roadblocks of people, it's made even harder. After a few seconds, they see why Elliott is so urgent all of a sudden. Another truck, smaller than many of the others, has just screeched to a stop. "Wait--wait!" Hunter says. He stops, forcing Elliott to do the same. "You said we were going back--not leaving!" "I'm telling you, your friends are gonna be in one of these trucks, alright? Believe me, it's better if we don't go looking for them, unless you wanna be left here. Hurry up." Elliott is clearly getting impatient, his jaw set as Lucy and Hunter argue briefly. "And what if they're not?!" Hunter shouts. "Then they're not," Lucy counters, "and there's nothing we can do about it." As much as she hates saying it, some of Elliott's assurity has rubbed off on her. And looking around now, she's finally come to her senses: as much as she wants to go back, it's an unrealistic endeavor. He knows she's right, as much as he doesn't want her to be. He takes a longing look at that truck--it's already begun piling people inside. He takes Lucy by the arm and pulls her along. Elliott sighs in relief as they finally make a decision and leads them along. Elliott stops a fellow soldier with a quick shove. "I've got two here; get them inside," he orders. The soldier nods, and he leads both Hunter and Lucy around to the back of the truck. Elliott follows, but he doesn't enter with them. “You’re not coming?” Lucy calls out to him. She’s shouting, but her voice barely reaches him. She’s forced to look down at him from her place in the truck. There’s other soldiers stationed in the back here; she’d expected Elliott to be among them. “N-no! I’ve gotta stay--gonna help out some more!” He gives her one last look before breaking into a jog in the other direction, but she shouts something he can’t make out. He turns. “Thank you!” she calls out. She realizes he probably can’t hear her, so she cups her hands over her mouth and repeats herself a little louder. “Thank you!” If she never sees him again, she wants him to know some extent of her gratitude, even if those two words will never be able to convey it all. Elliott just offers her a quick nod before hurrying off again. ---- “Tired yet?” Adam asks Lienne, running with her and Ivy. They, too, are struggling to find an escape. Simultaneously dodging clusters of people and keeping an eye out for those trucks just makes it more difficult. “No--just fine,” Lienne calls back. She’s breathing hard, sweat glistening on her forehead, but no sign of quitting is existent in her expression. That same determination is reflected in Adam, but his eyes are filled with some gleaming sense of hope. LA has literally come to them, as their apparent saviors. If this doesn’t strengthen everyone’s hopes of Los Angeles’s legitimacy, he doesn’t know what will. Someone sprints up to their left. It’s Harlow, and she can see Adam inspecting her uniform. Harlow didn’t notice her at first, but she sees Ivy trailing behind him, her arm locked with Lienne’s. This might actually be the first group she can save. Before Adam can say anything, she speaks. “Excuse me!” Harlow shouts. “You have a kid with you?” “Y-yeah!” Adam replies. “Are you--” “We’re here to help, yeah! We’re supposed to get the innocents to safety and calm down the rioters! Follow me, alright?” “Of course--th-thank you!” Adam says. “Like, what’s--what’s the plan?” “We deal with stuff like this more often than you think--we’ve had our eye on Denver for a while now! It's--it's crazy! We've just gotta get you people out of here.” She stops, then curses to herself as a man speeds past, nearly knocking her down. Another man, then another, and more figures cut them off, some kind of convoy of rioters heading toward something she can’t make out. “Stop--stop!” Harlow orders, and Adam, Lienne, and Ivy comply. To her left, an infected approaches. She gives it a quick jab with the butt of her rifle, and it collapses to the ground uselessly. She keeps her eyes forward. She can finally see the cause of the commotion--two trucks plow forward, destroying a small group of infected under their tires. She rushes the three along, but she’s forced to stop when something behind her goes amiss. Adam has been pulled to the ground by his pack by a bulky, menacing man. But he’s not going for Adam’s bag, but for his gun, secured in his waistband. Lienne’s hand wavers over her own pistol, but she’s petrified. When she sees Harlow lift her own rifle, Lienne’s even less inclined to fire. The man snatches Adam’s pistol, but Adam attempts to wrench it away. From his spot on the ground, he spots Harlow ready to put a bullet in this guy’s head. “Don’t!” Adam shouts. Harlow hears him, and responds with a confused look. She halts firing. Adam gives the man a firm kick to the knee. His stance falters, but he still hasn’t let go of the gun. One more kick--this time a little higher--and the man has completely released his grip. Still on his back, Adam punches him square in the jaw, and he stumbles backward. Adam jumps to his feet, gun in hand, and watches as the dazed man tries to regain his balance. No need to kill him--he’s clearly not going to be a problem anymore. “Let’s go,” he demands before the man can get his bearings. Harlow lowers her rifle hesitantly and complies. Adam doesn’t even wait for her; he approaches the trucks himself and helps Ivy and Lienne in before he enters himself. With the lack of military presence inside, Harlow lifts herself inside as well, and she and another soldier slam the doors shut. ---- There are no windows in the truck, so the only light Hunter, Lucy, and all the others sitting with them receive is from the ones lining the truck’s roof. Hunter glances at Lucy, who’s wiping her still-bleeding lip with her sleeve. “How familiar,” he says with a scoff. Lucy gives him a quizzical glance before she realizes what he means. When the Outskirts were nearly destroyed, they were escorted in similar vehicles, not as nice as these of course, and promised safety. That obviously didn’t turn out as planned. “No, this--these people are different,” she says. And that difference is clear. Something in those soldiers from LA was sincere, honest, caring. She couldn’t help but feel like a liability when being transferred to Denver. She didn’t know where she was going, if she wanted to even be there. But right now, she has an entirely different feeling. Hunter looks at her oddly, then back down at the bag in her hands. “I think it’s safe now,” he says with a laugh, only slightly teasing. She smiles back weakly. “Yeah--sorry. I didn’t mean to almost get you killed.” “I think I can forgive you.” Only because he knows what’s in there. There’s only one thing she’d defend with her life like that. ---- Harlow is still trying to catch her breath as she settles herself in the truck. She’s seated next to Adam, and across from her are Lienne and Ivy. Harlow takes a glance around the truck--it’s packed to the brim. “Thanks, again,” Lienne says to Harlow, her breaths coming slower again. She smiles at Harlow, gratitude breaking past the fear and apprehension. “Of course,” Harlow says. “Yeah. Thank you,” Ivy echoes. “You’re welcome,” Harlow replies with a smile now. “What’s your name?” “Ivy. What’s yours?” “Emma. Kinda boring name--I like yours a lot, though.” Lienne watches their exchange silently, smiling as she does. She locks eyes with Adam, who wears a similar grin. Something in Harlow’s expression has changed--she’s out of the moment, no longer so serious. “My daughter has hair like yours,” Harlow continues. “Brown and curly.” “You have a kid?” Ivy asks, honestly astonished since Harlow looks so young. “Yeah. She’s only five. A lot younger than you. She lives back in California, with her dad.” “You don’t live there?” “I do. I just don’t see her a lot, since I’ve gotta do stuff like this.” She adjusts herself so she can reach into her back pocket. “So...I bring this along, usually.” She has a tiny photograph in her hand. It’s crumpled and faded, but on it, Ivy can just make out a small girl. Just as she’d said, the girl’s hair is curly, a dark-brown color. Harlow holds the photo out for a moment before looking at it with an almost indiscernible frown and sliding it back into her pocket. Category:Dead Frontier Category:Dead Frontier Issues Category:Issues Category:Walkerbait22's Stories